


Small

by Crockzilla



Series: Domesti-Kink with Spideypool [6]
Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Age Play, Big!Peter, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Little!Wade, M/M, Non-Sexual Age Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-01
Updated: 2017-09-01
Packaged: 2018-12-22 12:44:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11967666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crockzilla/pseuds/Crockzilla
Summary: Wade tries out being Little. It is awkward and cute.





	Small

**Author's Note:**

  * For [notlucy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/notlucy/gifts).



> Shout-out to A Tremendous Thing by arsenicarcher and Westgate which is one of the best age play fics ever and definitely influenced this fic. 
> 
> Also, I know nothing about actual crystal growing kits, so please forgive any inaccuracies.

“Do _not_ scratch.”

Wade groaned pitifully, writhing on the bed as he waited for Peter to hurry up with the goddamn calamine lotion.

This was all Tony Stark’s fault. Their trip upstate with Tony and Pepper over the weekend had actually been very fun (Tony and Wade on weekend-mode was a dangerous combo, Peter had said [and Pepper had agreed]). They had driven to a gorgeous spot and gone on a hike and a picnic – like _married_ people – and Wade had warned Peter the whole drive up, and multiple times throughout their hike, to watch out for poison ivy. He had also carefully described what poison ivy looks like to Peter. And he may also have had pictures and diagrams. Peter, he had explained to Tony and Pepper, was a city boy who did not know of the perils of the natural world, whereas Wade was Canadian, and while he didn’t really remember his early life, it had surely been spent cavorting through the woods avoiding poisonous plants. Peter had rolled his eyes, and Tony had started calling Wade Dudley Do-Right, which was better than being called Cargo Shorts? Maybe? Anyway. They’d had fun, and they were going to go again.

But the next morning, Wade had woken up with a bumpy, blistery rash on his arms. Then it showed up on his chest. Then his neck.

“Fuuuuck fuck fuck fuck fuck,” he wailed, _not_ scratching but aggressively patting at his skin.

Peter sat down next to him on the bed, moved his flailing hands, and started gently dabbing calamine lotion on his chest with a cotton ball. The relief was instant.

“My poor guy,” he said with a sympathetic little pout.

Wade’s insides squiggled in spite of his agony. Peter had every right to give him a _ton_ of shit for this, but instead he had been super duper sweet and was taking excellent care of him. He wouldn’t say this out loud, but Peter was in full-on Mom-mode. Because while Wade was sometimes Dadpool, with his terrible dad-humor and reluctance to assert his authority, Peter was sometimes Spider-mom. He lectured bad guys about _why_ what they were doing was wrong (so they could learn from their mistakes and do better next time, presumably), he was constantly worrying about everyone and everything and took responsibility for stuff he didn’t need to, he was obsessed with baking (which was recent, but still), and he knew that if you have poison ivy you need to wash yourself and everything you’d worn or touched and apply calamine lotion. And not scratch.

Wade knew it was probably some deep sexist notions that made him assign gender to specific parenting traits, but – well, that’s why he wasn’t saying any of this out loud.

“I bet you’ll heal up from this in no time,” Peter comforted.

“Yeah,” Wade agreed, somewhat cheered, “if my Weird can heal _cancer_ on a daily basis, this’ll be gone by this afternoon, right?”

Peter frowned. While he knew it would never take Wade from him, he didn’t like being reminded of the cancer that was constantly ravaging his beloved. Wade squeezed his knee, reassuringly. “But it’s fun lying here naked while you dab me,” he said.

That made Peter smile again. Win. “You know,” Peter said, moving to Wade’s arms with the calamine, “I’ve been thinking about that talk we had. About you trying out being Little.”

Shit. Shitty shit. Wade had really been hoping Peter had forgotten about that (actually secretly wishing really really bad that he’d remember and bring it up). He’d let it slip when they’d been de-briefing after their Game day, and it had only slipped because Wade had still been high as a goddamn kite on subby bubbles. Otherwise, it would have been something he just thought about occasionally to make himself feel good but kept inside, because surely that wouldn’t actually go well. He had no doubts that Peter would be wonderful in that dynamic, but as for himself…

“Would you still like to try that?” Peter glanced up at him with the same expression he wore when he wanted something very specific for dinner but was asking Wade what _he_ wanted because he didn’t want to be bossy.

“Would _you_ like to try it?” Wade asked.

“It’s up to you,” Peter said, finishing up his dabbing.

This was, yeah, almost the _exact_ conversation they had about dinner when Peter had a craving, and it almost always meant he wanted Indian take-out, so in this case that meant Peter wanted – wanted to try taking care of Wade while he was Little. The thought made Wade’s heart race, and something inside of him started screaming _yes yes yes please please please!_

Wade shrugged. “Sure. Yes. Yeah. I would.”

Peter smiled just the way he did when Wade said, “why, I was craving some vindaloo myself,” except with an extra dash of happy, because while food was important to them both, this was a bigger deal. A _very_ bigger deal.

“Okay!” Peter said, fairly bouncing with pent-up enthusiasm. “Can we try tomorrow? I just need to get a couple of things together.”

 _Melt._ Of course Peter would have some creative something cooked up. Knowing him, he’d been thinking about this and planning since Wade had first let slip that he was curious about being Little.

And suddenly the excitement turned into a cold knot in Wade’s stomach. Peter was excited about this. And Wade was going to let him down, because much as he very _very_ much wanted to, he wasn’t sure he could get into a Little head-space. Peter did it so easily, but that made sense, because Peter’s soul was beautiful and shimmery. Wade had seen it himself. Sure, he’d done things that he felt horribly guilty about, but he hadn’t killed so many people that he’d lost track of just how many. And then there was the simple fact that Wade’s head was not an organized place. Being with Peter made it better, always had, but that didn’t mean he could get into and stay in a Little state of mind.

Wade fretted for the rest of the day. It did help take his mind off the itching so that he didn’t scratch (which Peter had reinforced with a couple of stingy swats on his ass [which Wade just haaated] [{ _wink_ }]). That day was Crime Fighting day, to make up for yesterday’s time off, so Wade was able to sort of tune out his worries for the most part, but every now and then Peter would web-up some baddies and dart into a store, emerging with a bag that he wouldn’t let Wade see, and the anxiety came roaring up to the front of his mind.

The poison ivy was totally gone by the time they got home, but Wade didn’t sleep. He lay awake listening to Peter snore adorably (which was something only Peter could do) and dreading the morning. It’s not like anything really _bad_ would happen, Peter wouldn’t leave him or anything, but it was just going to be so – disappointing. And probably embarrassing. Shame-barrassing, even. At some point, Peter woke up ever so slightly, wrapped an arm around him and slurred, “cutitoutgosleep,” and Wade snuggled into him and tried his best. He must’ve fallen asleep because he woke up to Spidey-kisses and sunshine.

“What do I --,” Wade stammered, fiddling with his cereal, “what do you want me to _call_ you?”

“Whatever you want,” Peter reassured. “I can be ‘daddy’ if that feels right, or just Peter, or Spidey…”

The word “Spider-mom” danced through Wade’s head and he mentally batted it away. No _no,_ brain.

Peter’s hand was on his, making him put down his spoon and look his boyfriend in the eye. “Babe, whatever happens is fine. And if that’s nothing but cuddling and watching Disney movies, that’s totally okay.”

“But you have stuff planned,” Wade reminded in a small voice.

“It’s just stuff to try. That’s all today is: trying it out. We don’t have to get to everything. Remember how awkward it was the first time I was Little?”

Wade frowned. He didn’t remember it that way. “You were kind of shy and, like, quiet,” he said, “but it was extra Cutes-ville, not –“

Peter smiled as he watched Wade realize. “It felt awkward to me,” he confessed. “But you took care of me, and now I’m super comfortable and can even play with our friends and co-workers.”

Wade cooed a little at the memory of how fun it had been to watch Little!Peter play robot army with his fellow Avengers. He hated that Peter had felt _awkward_ about the first time, but – hm. He was old enough to know that the very Best Things usually required getting through some nerves and awkwardness and even outright humiliation.

He looked into Peter’s big, pretty eyes. “I’m nervous, too,” Peter admitted. “We’ll just take care of each other, like always. Okay?”

Wade took a deep breath. “Okay. So – how does one become Little?”

Peter laughed and kissed him. “Let’s get you out of your PJs and into some comfy clothes first.”

Wade followed as Peter took him into the bedroom, not letting go of his hand. This was already nice. Maybe if he just stayed here, kind of floaty and happy, it would be okay. He watched Peter pull out two of his T-shirts, two hoodies (Hannah Montana and Invader Zim), his house-pants and his soft-jeans. Peter held the two hoodies up to him first. “Which of these would you like to wear today?”

Wade considered. Hannah Montana was now imbued with all of his dad-ly pride, which would maybe not work for today, so he went with Invader Zim. Following this process, Peter also let him pick out his gray T-shirt and his house-pants (which were athletic pants but he didn’t do anything athletic in them so they were house-pants). Peter was _such_ a good top – if he’d asked him what he wanted to wear, Wade would have just stayed in his PJs (so – underwear and cat slippers), but because he’d given him a choice but only between two things, Wade already felt himself slipping. He didn’t know if he was getting Little, but he was definitely sliding down that wonderful embankment into Subby River.

Peter turned to him holding his T-shirt rolled up in his hands. “Arms up,” he said, cheerfully.

Wade’s insides lept. He couldn’t remember anyone ever in his life dressing him this way, but as he put his arms up and Peter squiggled the shirt down over his head, he felt what had before felt like sub-space turn into something else, something unique, the same delicious feeling of _trusting_ but in a way that was not quite erotic. He didn’t know _what_ it was.

“Was that fun?” Peter asked.

Wade nodded.

“Yay!” Peter said. “Now for hoodie – arms up!”

Peter was very good at this. He should be a goddamn pre-school teacher. Jesus _Christ_ he was cute. Once Wade was dressed – and super comfy, he might add – Peter pulled him to his feet. There was that squirmy, yummy-but-weird feeling again. “I thought we should probably make some cookies for later,” Peter told him. “How does that sound?”

Wade nodded vigorously and Peter laughed and ruffled his hair – or he did the sweet little affectionate motion that would ruffle Wade’s hair if he had hair to be ruffled. Same effect: it made that thing that was starting to twist and bounce inside of him twist and bounce a little harder.

Wade worried his lower lip as Peter led him by the hand into the kitchen. So – talking was already gone. Interesting. Usually took a bit longer than that. Would it come back? Peter was always chatty and immensely entertaining when he was Little. Was Little!Wade going to be _boring_? Of course. Great.

Cookies were an excellent idea. Peter was always in charge when they baked anyway with Wade assisting however he could, thrilling when Peter would praise him for doing things well. Peter already had the recipe book out and once they’d assembled all the ingredients they’d need (because you wanted to have everything ready before you started, Spider-mom told him) Peter handed him one of their multi-colored spoon-ulas. It was exactly like the one Peter held, but smaller, which made Wade smile for some reason.

“Do you want to crack the eggs, baby?”

Wade’s stomach swooped at the familiar term of endearment. He very, _very_ carefully cracked the egg on the counter, like Peter had taught him, and even more carefully opened it over the mixing bowl. A bit of shell broke off and landed in the perfectly-creamed sugar and butter mixture, and Wade looked at Peter in panic. “No biggie,” Peter reassured, deftly fishing out the shell piece. “That was perfect. Would you please do the other one for me, too?”

Wade’s whole being buzzed with joy. It was _like_ the joy from being praised when he was taking a spanking or not coming until Peter told him too, but also very, _very_ different. He felt – well, small. But like, not in the way that you felt small when someone laughed at you or cut in front of you at the grocery store, but actually, physically _small_ , as if Peter could pick him up and put him in his pocket and carry him around all safe and secure and wee (ooh that sounded fun [perhaps Dr. Strange knew a shrinky spell? {oh but he was still mad at them about the Double Date Incident}]).

Peter put an arm around his shoulders and gave him a kiss on the cheek, which made Wade realize that he’d been leaning up against Peter’s side. Suddenly he was painfully aware of their size difference. Peter was almost a whole head shorter than Wade. Usually he found that unbearably cute, but right now it just clashed horribly with how he was starting to feel inside.

Spider-mom noticed his distress. “Will you help me stir, sweet boy?”

Wade stirred with his tiny spoon-ula as Peter alternated adding milk and flour, explaining to Wade as he did so why it was important to add the ingredients in a certain order. Wade listened and was careful to brush the flour down off the sides, and he felt almost instantly more grounded. Maybe not Little yet, but – small.

They squished the finished dough into clumps, not too big, and set them in neat rows on their cookie sheet. Peter allowed them each to eat a little bit of raw dough before he put the rest in the fridge. Usually, when they baked, Wade held the dough or mixing bowl up out of Peter’s reach, insisting that his superior healing factor meant he could eat all the raw flour and eggs he wanted while Peter would surely die from e coli if he had any, which usually ended with Peter taking it from him by climbing on the ceiling, yadda yadda yadda, _sex_. But today Wade just took the dough he was given and ate it while Peter watched him, smiling indulgently. Was Peter having fun? He seemed like he was. Wade hoped he was.

After they washed their hands (Spider-mom squeezed soap into Wade’s outstretched hands for him, which felt wonderful) Peter sat him down at the kitchen table and revealed one of the items he’d picked up the day before: a home crystal-growing kit. Wade audibly gasped, which made Peter laugh happily. He remembered these things were super popular in the early 90s, but you could never actually get them to work at home and parents just ended up throwing them out. But _his_ Spider-mom was a _scientist._

Peter stayed standing while they carefully put their crystal concoction together, occasionally darting over to check their cookies weren’t burning. It was like baking, but instead of following directions Wade had lots of choices to make – easy, nice choices, like what color he wanted the crystals to be, and how big, etc. It made it feel like when they grew they’d be _his_ , but he also had no anxiety about whether they’d actually grow or not because Peter was doing the science-y part, though he explained each step to Wade who listened intently.

This was – awesome. Wade realized that he was answering Peter’s questions without realizing it, one-word answers but still. Was his voice smaller? Did he sound weird? As they worked, Peter kept finding reasons to give him sweet, small touches – on his shoulder, on his back, kissing his temple. It helped to be sitting down with Peter standing, so, SO much. Wade sighed with contentment – Peter could pretty much read his thoughts any other time they played, so of course he could now, too. That thought helped Wade sink back into that slow, calm feeling that was very similar to but not quite like sub-space.

“Okay,” Peter said cheerfully once their crystals were set up and their cookies out of the oven and cooling, “we are covered in all kinds of exciting chemicals. How about a bubble bath before lunch time?”

Wade’s insides clenched. That – that did not sound fun. And he had _no_ idea why. Peter _loved_ bubble bath time when he was Little, and Wade loved it too because they got to splash around and play with Squeezy Sub-Mariner and Peter’s other bath-time-only toys. He realized he had his arms wrapped around himself, fingers clutching at his hoodie.

Spider-mom immediately saw his distress and put his hands on Wade’s shoulders, drawing him a little closer in a highly comforting way. “What’s wrong, my guy?”

Wade swallowed. He didn’t – something about the thought of taking his clothes off, of seeing his own horribly marred skin, brought him very close to tears, but he couldn’t get the words out to explain it. He just looked up at Peter, hoping he’d somehow understand.

And he did. “We don’t have to take a bath,” Peter said with finality, using the same tone Wade thought he’d heard moms use to tell their kiddos they didn’t have to ride the rollercoaster if they didn’t want to. “What if we went swimming?”

“Swimming,” according to Spider-mom, was when you ran a bubble bath but didn’t have to take off your clothes to get in. You could wear your swim trunks, or you could just wear what you had on. Wade chose to let Peter help him change into swim trunks, but kept on his shirt and hoodie, which Peter reassured him was totally fine as he helped Wade into the foamy water, making sure he didn’t slip.

As soon as Wade was settled, the warm water filling up his hoodie in a way that deeply entertained him – he was a _balloon!_ – Peter revealed another of the items he’d picked up the day before: bath markers. That was _not_ something they had in the early 90s, or at least not that Wade remembered. You could color all over the tile, and it would stay beautifully until you were done, and then all you had to do was splash water on it and it came right off.

Wade was _delighted._ He picked out red to start with, and soon moved on to purple (because it was the colors of Spidey’s suit but smooshed together). He drew a kitty-cat and a unicorn, and Peter helped him draw a castle for them to live in. It was such an impressive mural that Peter took a picture of it with his phone so they could have it forever. Then, to wash it away, they sprayed the wall with new water-guns that Peter had picked up, giggling as the water ricocheted off the tile and back in their faces. Then, because their fingers were getting prune-y, it was time to get out, so Peter unstopped the tub and Wade blew at the bubbles as they sank down like weird little mountains. He was so occupied with this task that it took him a moment to notice Spider-mom watching him, a kind of dreamy expression on his face. He smiled when Wade caught his eye. “Was that fun, my baby?”

Wade felt like the bubbles had somehow seeped into him, flooding his whole chest with squishy happiness. He nodded, smiling back at his Spider-mom.

Getting him out of the tub and into dry clothes was a bit of a trick, but Peter, using his ingenuity and can-do attitude, quickly figured out a way to sort of wring out Wade’s hoodie and shirt in the tub as he was taking them off before throwing them in the laundry basket. Peter had him wrapped up in their floofiest towel so fast that Wade didn’t even think about the fact that he was taking off his clothes, and when they came out to the bedroom he saw that Peter had already laid out another similar outfit choice on the bed. When had he done that? Whatever. Spider-mom.

Little!lunch was always the BEST because you got to eat kid-food, and today that meant goldfish and grapes and pbj sandwiches with the crust cut off (Wade personally didn’t mind crusts, but Peter, adult or Little, would not tolerate them). Wade happily ate his goldfish and minded Spider-mom’s warning to not eat the grapes too fast because they were a choking hazard. He got jam all over his chin from his sandwich. “You are a _mess_ ,” Peter said affectionately as he gently held his chin and cleaned him up with a napkin, kissing him on the nose when he finished. Squiggle squiggle squiggle, happy happy happy.

After lunch, they FINALLY got to eat their cookies while working on art projects. In the Wilson-Parker household, the table was generally not big enough to contain art projects, so butcher paper was spread out on the kitchen floor. Another of the items Spider-mom had picked up the day before was a brand new box of 150 crayons, which was just about the most exciting thing in the world besides a vast swath of blank paper. Wade lay on his stomach, rolling back and forth a bit as he colored, munching on a cookie. Peter lay next to him, also coloring but pausing frequently to watch Wade and praise him and give him more sweet, casual touches. Wade was absorbed in his work – this was _fun_ – and Peter’s presence next to him was like a warm, comforting glow. He sang to himself in his head as he colored ( _Spider-mom, Spider-mom, does whatever a Spider-mom does…_ )

Peter had gotten up to refill their cookie plate when Wade finished a particularly exciting scene that he’d basically used up one of the red crayons on. Peter was going to love this and tell him so, and he needed to get his attention right away. He opened his mouth to do so, and out came, “Mom!”

_SHIT._

Wade froze. He stared down at his drawing, unseeing, as he heard Peter turn to him. Great. Fantastic job. _That_ happened, and of _course_ it did, because if you thought something in your head long enough it was _inevitable_ that that shit would come outside at some point.

He didn’t move or look up as he felt Peter sit down next to him and place a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Yes, baby?”

Wade dared look up at Peter ever so slightly. He didn’t look mad. He didn’t look put-off. His face held no indication that anything weird had just happened. He was just looking at Wade with affectionate curiosity, patiently waiting for him to show him his art work.

His whole body still flushed hot with embarrassment, Wade pointed down at the drawing he’d just finished, which he now realized was the type of drawing that, if an actual little kid showed it to their pre-school teacher for instance, would result in immediate enrollment in counseling and possibly a call to Child Protective Services. It basically catalogued the decapitation of a variety of animals and humans. A Decapitation Collage, if you will.

“Awesome!” Peter declared it. Wade looked back up at him, tentatively, to see if he really did think it was awesome. Spider-mom wrapped his arms around him and gave him a big hug, kissing the top of his head. “I think we should put this one on the fridge. What do you think, kiddo?”

Wade nodded into Peter’s shoulder, carefully returning the hug so as not to disturb the sweet sweet comfort that felt like it was pouring into him from Peter’s arms, like warm water into a tea cup. He imagined himself as a tea cup and Peter as a tea pot and immediately went to Chip and Mrs. Potts, which made him giggle a little and squeeze his Spider-mom tighter.

“It’s been a big day,” Peter said, rubbing his back. “Should we snuggle and watch a movie?”

Wade nodded, vigorously. Back to no talking, then, but – it was okay. He wasn’t as worried about it now. He wasn’t worried about much of anything, he realized, as he watched Peter carefully cut his drawing out of the big sheet of paper and affix it to their fridge with Wade’s favorite magnet (a jiggly crab that Clint had brought them back from his trip to the beach).

Wade was asked to pick the movie and chose _Brave_ (which Peter agreed to even though Pixar movies usually made both of them unreasonably emotional), and the two of them got settled on the couch, Wade laying with his head snuggled into his Spider-mom’s chest and Peter’s arms wrapped securely around him. _Yum_. For a few minutes, Wade was super comfy and happy and content. Then, he started to feel kind of -- not fidgety, he didn’t know _how_ he felt, but he didn’t like it. It felt like everything was itchy, but in his _brain_. He tried snuggling further into Peter’s chest. He tried hiding his eyes from the light of the TV, which was just _too_ bright. He tried adjusting Peter’s arms so they blocked the noise of the movie from his ears, because it was just _too_ loud, and every time one of the characters (usually Merida’s dad) got louder than the others it was just _awful_. Wade tried _so_ hard to stay still and cuddle, knowing that’s what Spider-mom had planned, but he realized that little whimpers of distress kept escaping from him. Peter, of course, noticed.

“Are you a little over-stimulated, baby?” he asked, but in that way that moms ask things when it’s not really a question. Wade rested his face on his Spider-mom’s chest and let out a small wail of defeat, which made Peter coo at him sympathetically. “Come on, little one – let’s go lay down for a bit.”

Peter scooped him up in his arms, effortlessly as always, but instead of carrying him bridal style as he did when they were being romantical, Peter held him against his shoulder with one arm securely underneath him. Wade suddenly felt safer than he could ever remember feeling. The entire staff of the Weapon X program _and_ the Hospice could show up right at this moment, and they wouldn’t be able to touch him.

The bedroom was dark and quiet. Peter reached out with one arm to turn on their overhead fan, which made perfect white-noise. He laid Wade down on the bed and laid down next to him, opening his arms for Wade to curl into his chest, head tucked under his chin. That was exceedingly nice, but then Peter started doing this small, gentle rocking motion that Wade was not sure how he was accomplishing. Was he just shifting his hip? It felt like they were in a hammock, but not one that was liable to attack and flip you out as soon as you got comfy. The super gentle rocking made his brain buzz happily, so he was only vaguely aware that Peter was also, ever so quietly, humming to him. Spider-mom had a pretty voice, though he refused to believe it no matter how many times Wade told him. He realized the song was Duran Duran’s “Rio,” which was perfect. Wade breathed deeply, snuggled in this cocoon of _happy warm safe calm love._ He remembered the bubbles from earlier, the ones he’d watched sink gently down as the tub drained, and thought this must be how they felt. As he was drifting off, he felt a gentle kiss on his head. “I love you, baby,” Spider-mom whispered, “ _so_ much.”

*~*~*

“I am _so_ sorry.”

“Why?” Peter asked as he popped another of the cookies into his mouth.

Wade shrugged as he nibbled at his own cookie, careful not to let crumbs fall on the bed. “I told you that you could call me whatever felt right,” Peter reminded, poking him in the chest affectionately.

“I know, but,” Wade grimaced, “that was, like, _the_ most awkward thing I could have picked.”

“A,” Peter said, beginning what Wade knew would be a list, “I can think of like eight more-awkward things you could have called me. B, you didn’t pick it, it just felt right in the moment. And _C,_ ” he straightened, righteously, “I don’t personally think being called ‘mom’ is a negative thing, even if you’re a dude.”

“No no, me neither!” Wade amended quickly. “Moms are great, yay moms! It’s just – I don’t want to be one of those assholes who thinks there are lady-things and dude-things.”

“Well, but you can’t help how you feel when you’re Little,” Peter comforted. “And anyway, I kind of do the same thing.”

Wade cocked his head to the side. “Oh?”

“Yeah,” Peter said, hesitantly, “I mean, when you take care of me and put my coffee in a to-go mug or pack extra web fluid and stuff, I sometimes kind of in my head occasionally think of you as…”

He trailed off and muttered something. “Qua?” Wade asked.

Peter scratched the back of his head in that _adorably_ bashful/nerd-hot way that he did sometimes. He looked at the ceiling instead of Wade. “My…wife.”

_…Gasp._

…… _MELT._

Peter let out a squeak as he was abruptly pinioned to the bed. “So, you don’t mind that, then,” he laughed as Wade covered his face in kisses.

“Don’t mind,” Wade got out between kisses. “Might get an apron. And pearls.”

“I’m gonna come home tomorrow and find you vacuuming in high heels, aren’t I?”

They both froze as they fully appreciated how very very hot that idea was. Yes, Wade decided, that was _happening._

“Are you okay?” Peter brought them back, cupping Wade’s face in his hands and looking at him with big, earnest eyes. “Did you have fun? Did I do an okay job? I’m sorry I let you get over-stimulated.”

“ _You_ were amaze-balls, sweet-cheeks,” Wade assured him. “I’m sorry I make the most awkward, sad, boring little kid _ever_.”

“Hey!” Peter swatted him on the thigh. “Don’t talk that way about my baby. You were perfect.”

And that made Wade’s insides turn back into goo, and he lay down, cuddling up next to his Spidey, both of them sighing contentedly.

“So,” Peter said a moment later, “is your poison ivy one-hundred percent gone?”

Oh! Wade had almost forgotten that ordeal. “Yep! Itch-free.”

“Good,” Peter turned to him with a wicked grin. “Remember that time you kept saying I was going to get poison ivy because I’m a dumb city boy and then _you_ got poison ivy?”

Peter giggled madly as Wade chased him through the house. He wasn’t sure exactly what power dynamic they were tumbling into, but he did know it would lead to emotional and sexual satisfaction for all involved. And he knew he had to get Peter to teach him how to do that cool rocking-thing so he could add it to his Dadpool repertoire. And he also knew he’d try being small again. Some day.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to all of you beautiful humans for all the kudos and comments!!!
> 
> Next up is medical kink (bottom!Wade), then request fills for somnophilia and breeding/filling. 
> 
> Let me know what else you'd like to see!
> 
> Also, everybody go read notlucy's new Steve/Bucky sugar-daddy AU!


End file.
